


return

by epsiloneridani



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 13:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16086653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epsiloneridani/pseuds/epsiloneridani
Summary: The world is different, 28 years later.Red Team drabble





	return

When they get back, nothing is the same.

The others are dead, the others are gone, and Jerome wants to drive his fist into a wall whenever anyone raises Reach around him. It’s a gaping hole in his chest, a vicious void that seethes at the loss. They’ve been fighting for so long, so far away, but he still feels he should have been there for the fall, should have been there beside them all.

It was more of a massacre than a fight.

There were Threes there alongside Jorge, Threes battling brutally to survive, and it jolts him – more Spartans, other Spartans,  _replacements_. There weren’t many Twos before – and now, there are barely any at all. He wonders where the Threes came from. He wonders how many of them are left.

It’s all just files, though, just words and records and screaming stills until he sees another Spartan.

Until he sees another Two.

John tugs off his helmet in the armory, staring at a deep crack driven into the visor, but it’s not the scar or its story that draws Jerome’s eye. He remembers John from Reach, remembers the stalwart strength and calm confidence and driven determination. John never wavered.

But John looks over at him and there’s grim resolve, aching exhaustion, and deep dark arcs driven beneath his eyes. But John looks over at him and any trace of energy is drowned, buried beneath. He’s alive, he’s pressing on, but something inside of him has died.

Something has died inside of all of them.

The  _Spirit of Fire_  is an amalgam of technology, old gear they had when they were first dispatched and new additions they gained when they found Isabel and the Ark. It’s out of place even when it’s docked at an Earth port for repairs and upgrades, so small beside the supercarrier, the flagship  _Infinity_. New, like the Spartans that crew it.

All of it. New.

Jerome stands on the observation deck one night, long after everyone else has left and Alice and Douglas slipped back to the barracks, either bored by the tour or, like him, baffled by the hero treatment. The stars shine, a silver sheen shimmering above the horizon.

“First time to Earth?”

Jerome jolts and snaps his shoulders back and to attention. It’s odd to be out of armor. Vulnerable. He doesn’t like it.

Lasky stops beside him and though his arms are folded there’s no hostility to his posture. “At ease,” he says. There’s a small smile playing on his face, something close to understanding.

He doesn’t ask again and it takes Jerome a moment to realize he’s waiting for an answer, not willing silence.

“Yes, sir,” Jerome says at last. Lasky follows his gaze.

“I never get tired of seeing her,” he says and though Jerome doesn’t know why he gets the sense it’s nostalgic for Lasky, that he’s had conversations like this one many times before. “She’s home.”

Reach was home, centuries ago. Reach is gone. Jerome grits his teeth.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve seen,” Lasky offers gently. “All of this must be pretty overwhelming.”

“The stars were different,” Jerome says shortly. Lasky tilts his head, encouraging him, maybe, and Jerome fights the urge to snap the conversation to a close. It was easier to talk to Forge, commanding officer or not. “Near the Ark,” he manages at last, lifting a hand helplessly.

Lasky nods wordlessly. There’s a brief pause, an empty beat, and then he gives a flash of a smile. “You’re welcome on  _Infinity_  anytime,” he says. The  _Spirit of Fire_  sits silent beyond them, swarmed by workers and drones and disbelieving Fours alike. It won’t be the same when they’re done upgrading it and logistically he knows it makes sense, knows adding the latest technology and advancements will make the  _Spirit_  stronger, better. It’s perfectly tactical – but it changes the only other place that still feels like home.

Nothing is the same.

The Fours are smart and fast, good soldiers fighting a war they have every opportunity to win. They’re conscious that they control humanity’s future but they’re not crushed by it, laughing and grinning after a wargame and brimming with confidence not molded by crippling pain but by the dedicated way they train. Jerome thinks of John, thinks of the deep lines carved into his brow, thinks of the sorrow in his stare, and wonders at the difference. Spartan IVs choose their fates. Spartan IVs are not forced to shatter and then to continue to break.

Blue Team is worn and weary, so much older than they were the last time Jerome saw them. There’s darkness in their eyes, steel in their souls, and after everything Jerome’s not sure what to say. They’re tempered, tormented – they’ve seen so much, done so much. How could he ever relate? Too young to know all the Twos have endured. Too old to understand the Fours.

The War is over, the War is done, but it doesn’t feel like they’ve won. The War is over, the War is done, but without them, the world has moved on.

—-


End file.
